YOUR Hunger Games 2011!
by Shadow.of.memory
Summary: Death, lies, romance and heartbreak. Only one tribute can win. Will your tribute rebel, or die in silence? Will they ally, or kill mercilessly? Will your tribute become the next Katniss? You decide. **JUST CLOSED!**
1. Explaination

**Personalised Hunger Games**

**Yes, I know this idea isn't mega original and it has been done before, but I promise that this episode of the Hunger Games will be action packed and updated almost every day! **

**Basics, to be in the chance of creating a Tribute to appear in these Hunger Games, please PM or review the following form:**

**Name:**

**Age:**

**Gender:**

**District:**

**Appearance:**

**Preferred Weapon:**

**Weakness:**

**Strengths:**

**Background info:**

**Catchphrase:**

**Any extra info!:**

_Thank you and please make your Tribute exciting and as original as possible! I will upload the final list ASAP!_

_Also:_

_SPONSERS! _

_Again, I know this has been done b4, but you can't have games without SPOOONNNSSSEEERRRSSS!_

_Here's how it works: _

_You may send ONE GIFT per day to your tribute, and if they die you may choose a tribute to continue sponsoring. But you will have to PM the gift you would like to send them to me each day. And please be reasonable – any bazookas/firearms/sports cars will be ignored __ (lolx)_

_Any extra ideas, pls review and tell meee! X_

_Yours,_

_Shadow of memory xox_


	2. District Four Reapings :

**Here's the District Four reapings! I'm doing these in a strange order I know, but until I have enough tributes I can't do the others **** Enjoy! Next, after all the reapings there will be interviews, but I will not write about the training, as it is strictly confidential (lol) and will only give the scores. Please send in more tributes! **

**Yours,**

**Shadow of Memory**

**PS I'm sorry if I alter your character a bit – it's for the story!**

**DISTRICT FOUR**

_**Angel**_

Sweat coats my palms as I nervously fiddle with my new dress, picking off the hem subconsciously. One slip. One slip in over three thousand has Angel Heavenblossom printed on it in small neat writing. I am safer than some, as my younger brother, Dimitri has signed up for all the Terrasae we need. One slip in thousands. Girls around me are whispering excitedly, pointing to the glass ball where all off our names were being jumbled up, mixed together. One slip in thousands, I reassured myself. And surely, even if I _was_ chosen, someone would volunteer? Here in district four it's a great honour to win the Hunger Games. But I really don't see the appeal of being flung into an arena filled with dangers and kids like me intent on being the one to survive and bring home the glory. But only one slip…I mean, it's hardly likely that I'll be that one, right? But what if I am chosen? My heartbeat quickens and beads of perspiration blur my vision of the stage in front of us.

I've now worked myself into such a state, I need reassurance. My panicked gaze scans the roped off area next to ours, where the boys are penned, like livestock. My eyes fall on Dimitri, my darling brother and best friend, and attempt to catch his eye. The girl next to me sniggers at the expression on my face, and I glare back.

'Many years ago, when the Capitol ruled all…,' the mayor began to drone on about the history of Panem, the rebellion and how the Hunger Games had been born. I ignore his words and concentrate on steadying my breathing and slowing my heartbeat, just like my swimming teacher taught me. The sweat on my brow begins to cool, leaving me cold and clammy. Just as the mayor is finishing his speech, I re-focus on what he is saying, listening intently to his every word.

'Now to draw the Tributes!' exclaims the prim, weary old woman from the Capitol who will be the escort this year. She has a fake smile of over enthusiasm plastered across her prune-like face. She will be the one to pick out the two pieces of paper that would change the lives of two children, one way or another.

She plunges her clawed hand into the tumult of slips, her blood red nails flashing and she pinches a slip between two fingers. One slip, one slip, one slip, one slip…I chant to myself under my breath, my fists clenching and unclenching.

I suppose I never really thought I would be picked. But all my praying and chanting must have had to opposite effect of what I wanted. Because the name read out to the whole of District Four and broadcasted across Panem, is:

'Angel Heavenblossom!'

_**Alec**_

I watch in slight amusement as the girl who was chosen faints where she stands, unconscious and oblivious to the faded smatters of applause from District Four. She has to be half carried up to the platform where Stacia Lockett, the escort from the Capitol, stands beaming wildly as though this Angel Heavenblossom has just won some sort of contest. Fear is written in big bold letters as they ask for volunteers from the girls. Silence. No one steps up to take her place.

'Anyone?' offers Stacia a second time. Silence. I frown. That's unusual. Normally at least one person volunteers. I shrug it off. I have every intention of volunteering this year. I've spent almost every minute of my spare time training for this day – sparring with my dad, healing with mom, and swimming at every opportunity to give me the large and rippling muscles that bulge out from under the open shirt I wear loosely over my muscular body. I am gorgeous, and I know it. I've that chestnut tanned skin that most dudes only dream of possessing, I have sharp and angular facial features, wavy black hair and emerald green eyes. There's no wonder that I am the heart throb of District Four. I mean, what's there not to like? The girls trip over each other just to sit in the row behind me at school, let alone the seats either side of me. I grin confidently, flashing my white teeth at the guy next to me, as a kind of 'bro' thing, but to my confusion, he doesn't smile back. His attention is solely on the girl on the stage, and something clicks in my head. Of course! He must be her brother! They're often hanging around together at the market and the docks. Poor guy. I grimace sympathetically. He turns to me with such a look of scorn and anger, I can almost feel the arrows of disgust shooting from his eyes! I look away, taken aback.

'Now for the boys!' announces Stacia, after she'd finished congratulating Angel on winning such an honour. Her hand delves deep among the slips, clawing around for a random one. When she's satisfied, she unrolls in with her bony fingers and reads:

'Samwise Graycoat!'

I smirk confidently. That guy is in my fishing squad, and a complete loser. This thing is in the bag.

'Any volunteers?' enquires Stacia as Sam slowly slinks up to the stage.

'I volunteer!' I declare in my clearest, most resounding voice. I note how the girls all sigh in unison at my bravery and fearlessness. I swagger up the aisle, winking and flashing my white teeth at girls – and a few guys! - to where Angel is already standing, her knees wobbling as she casts me a look of complete despair from pretty green eyes. I take note of her ringlets of brown hair rippling down her back in shimmering waves. She's quite a looker, I think.

'Name?' asks Stacia.

'Alec Hummingsworth,' I smirk confidently.

I turn back to the crowd, waving and bowing as a huge round of applause erupts from the spectators. This year, the Hunger Games are mine.


	3. District One Reapings

**Hey y'all! Here's the District One reapings!**

**Yours,**

**Shadows of Memory**

**PS Still need tributes!**

**District One**

_**Ashuba**_

I sigh impatiently as I wait for this year's escort to get on with it and pull the slip out of the glass globe. But for some reason, he decides to mutter on about glory, honour and all the kind of drivel I lost faith in since my mother abandoned me to my uncle. I tap my foot on the concrete ground, picking at my nails.

'Shh!' hisses the girl behind me. I ignore her and continue to tap and pick, if anything, louder. I'm just waiting for my moment, my time to shine. I've waited 17 years for this day, and no hissing cow is going to ruin my moment. No matter who is chosen, I will volunteer. I've trained so hard for this. Those hours spent duelling with my elder brothers, and those gruelling exercises they put me through weren't for nothing. I intend to win the Hunger Games this year. I have nothing to lose, and the rewards will be great. Now, we only just have enough for a decent life, but I want more. I want to prove that as the only girl in my large family, I am by far the strongest and most worthy.

I start to run my hand through my usually loose hair, when I realise I can't – it's twisted up on top of my head like a ridiculous hat. The work of my aunt for reaping day. I scowl sullenly, before my attention is caught by the escort reaching into the spinning globe. His meaty fingers clutch a piece of pink paper, pull it out and announce:

'Sasha Mottahedan!' I frown. I don't know this girl. Cheers and applause erupt from the members of District One as the girl who told me to 'Shh!' makes her way up to the platform. The smug look on her face makes it even easier for me to shout, 'I volunteer!' over the dying wolf whistles and claps.

'And what would your name be?' asks the chubby, balding Capitol escort. It seems like every pair of eyes from District One – and most probably the whole of Panem – are trained on me, waiting for me to declare my name. I feel my cheeks flush and my knees wobble nervously. Sasha shoots me a succession of death glares from the stage, silently threatening me.

'Ashuba,' I whisper.

'What?' Squints the escort, 'Speak up girl, you're on live TV!'

I glower back at him defiantly, enraged that he humiliated me in front of the whole country.

'Ashuba Stronghue!' I half shout at him. I look up at the big screens above his head, and to my complete and utter embarrassment, you can see me red as a ruby scowling at the whole of Panem. I can feel the girl beside me cringe in sympathy. Or was she just glad that it wasn't her humiliating herself?

'Well, Ashuba Stronghue,' he addresses me after an awkward silence in which my heart rate increased rapidly, 'it looks like you are our new tribute!' he starts clapping half-heartedly and only after a few claps everyone else joins in, but there are no wolf whistles or shouts of 'Ashuba!'. I rush up onto the stage, head down, and my face bright crimson. As I walk past Sasha I can feel the daggers of her gaze boring into my back as she returns to her place. I slow my breathing, clear my head, and take my place on the platform. This is what I was born to do. A slow grin spreads across my scarred face, and I don't need the screens for me to know it's the merciless smile of a killer.

_**Nikolas**_

'Whaaaat a dork,' sneers my best friend, Aydrian, in my right ear.

'Yeah, you got that right,' I smirk back, scornfully eyeing the skinny, beetroot red girl standing awkwardly on the stage, like she had no place there. Well, she didn't. But something about the glint in her eye, and the way she flashed her pointy teeth made me wonder what she'd be like if you put a knife in her hand…something told me it would be a completely different story.

Quickly checking to my left to make sure Kayti is looking; I run a hand through my mop of blonde hair before flexing my muscles and grinning cockily. She shakes her head and turns her attention back to the stage, where the escort is selecting a slip of blue paper. I wonder who it will be…usually it's someone completely unexpected, but almost always someone else volunteers to take their place. No one in my family has been cho –

I stop mid thought.

'Nikolas Pickit!' booms Beefy (my nickname for the escort). I freeze; my hand is half way through running through my definitely-sexy hair. I am all too aware of the cameras zooming in on me, waiting for a reaction. I slide a glance at Kayti, who is looking at me expectantly.

'Go on, Nick!' mutters Aydrian, nudging me with his elbow. Suddenly recovering from my brief bout of dorkyness, I begin to stroll up towards the stage in time to that wonderful music of applause. I clamber up the steps and shake hands with Beefy, whose grip almost crushes my fingers! Once up there, I glare defiantly down at the audience, daring them to ruin my moment of glory. No one says a word. I'm quite an imposing 15 year old when I try to be. My height is a key factor.

'Congratulations, Nikolas!' beams Beefy.

'Please, call me Nick,' I assure him. Beefy just nods before turning back to the Beetroot girl. The Mayor steps forward and begins to dismiss the crowds in an orderly fashion, then turns to me.

'Well done, Nikolas,' he gives me a strange look, 'make District One proud of you.' He then trots off back to his mansion to go munch truffles and sign pieces of paper, or do whatever Mayors do.

'Follow me to the Justice Building,' ushers Beefy, shepherding us down off the stage to the waiting rooms where we can say a final farewell to our families.

As he turns to leave the room, he gives us a funny half-smile and says,

'May the odds be ever in your favour.' Before plodding out to go do something escort-y.


	4. District Two Reapings

**Hey guys! District 2 is now full so their reapings are next. After I've done D3 (so it'll be 1 – 4) I will then do train journeys. If your tribute does not have a point of view before the games actually start, I will make sure they get a large POV during them. BTW, does anyone have any ideas for tricks/traps in the arena? Can't get enough of them! And I have decided that I will write a list of things you are allowed to give your tribute for you to choose from each day. Oh yeah, and CALLMECAT, District Nine was already full so I'm putting Raven in District five…I hope that's ok?**

**District 2 reapings**

_**Difendimi**_

'You're late!' hisses my little sister, Adi, elbowing me hard in the ribs. I rub the bruise tenderly and try to catch my breath back.

'Yeah, so what if I am?' I answer back curtly under my breath, pinching her arm hard. The Peacekeepers aren't the boss of me! She lets out a muffled yelp before turning back to the mayor, who was at least half way through his speech. I begin to smooth down my white reaping dress and comb my fingers through my long tangled hair to try and make it look a little presentable.

'Where were you, anyway?' asks Tashia, my other little sister on my other side. But instead of pinching her, as I would straight away to Adi, I consider answering her question. I actually respect Tashia, because where Adi is feather headed, Tashia is smart, where Adi is silly, Tashia is sensible. Although Adi is closer in age to me, at 13, I prefer Tashia by far.

'With Jon,' I mutter back, my cheeks having the courtesy to flush red. Tashia says nothing, and helps me un-crinkle my supposedly smart dress and pluck the pieces of straw out of my hair. 'Thanks,' I mutter under my breath. Adi, obviously having heard my reply, snorts in distaste before throwing her pointy nose up in the air. Tashia and I exchange a look, clearly agreeing 'Ignore her.'

'Pst, Difendimi!' whispers Natta's familiar voice from behind me. I turn round to see what she wants.

'What?' I say.

'Jon's trying to catch your eye…' she gestures towards the boy half of the square, where Jon is waving subtly in the third row from the front. I smile back, reliving the events of just a few minutes ago, and the reason I was late. Jon and I have been going out since _forever_, though I really don't get what he sees in me. I look like any other District Two fourteen-year-old girl; straight black hair, green eyes, not skinny but not fat. I'm completely average.

When I put the question to him, he said that it was the fire inside me he likes. The way my eyes glint as I spar with my classmates in the arena, and the way my glare could burn through diamonds when I'm angry. And I suppose I am pretty violent. I enjoy the crunch of bones and squeals of pain when my club scores a hit in training, I love the feeling of power over others.

'I love you,' he mouths at me.

'I love you too,' I reply without a sound.

Something on the stage then re-takes his attention, so I focus too. They're about to draw the girl Tribute. Epsilon Ivory, our escort, plucks a slip from the pile, unravels it, and reads;

'Adinada Corret!' My heart stops. Adi! Her delicate face is twisted into an expression of shock. Slowly she begins to creep towards the platform.

No!

Not Adi!

Although I say I hate her, it's a sibling hate. I love her deep down!

She's half of what I have left.

I can't let her die.

Not like my mother.

Not like my father.

She doesn't deserve this.

'Stop! No, wait! Adi! I volunteer!' I scream above the roar of the crowd. Silence cloaks the main square. Adi turns to face me, pleading me to be quiet, pleading me to back down and live for sure. But I can't.

'What's your name, then, little Lady?' asks Epsilon in an unintentionally patronizing tone.

'Difendimi Lyrica Corret,' I announce, looking him dead on in the eyes.

'Well. We can't let all the younger siblings steal all the glory, can we?' he titters at the audience.

'Mimi, no!' Jon cries as I take Adi's place next to the mayor. Panic squeezes my heart when I see his despairing eyes beseeching me to back down, to forget all about this. But I look away. He'll move on. And, who knows? All those hours of training might come in useful. There's always a chance that I return home victorious! But I doubt it.

_**Deric**_

The heart wrenching scene before me brings a tear to my eyes. Poor, poor Difendimi. Poor Jon! The look of complete agony on his face is enough to rip your heart out. I know for a fact they were making out in one of the barns before the reapings – you could hear them if you walked past the door, which I had to, to collect some hay for our goats.

'Hey, Squirrel!' whispers Tag, my completely tactless best friend, 'you wanna go get some game after this so story is over?' I shake my head and return my attention back to Epsilon, who is patting Difendimi on the back, congratulating her on seizing the honour from her sister. The look on her face clearly shows her disgust at the escort's narrow minded, Capitolised view on the Hunger Games. I run my hand through my (embarrassingly) ginger, curly hair, and wish for the whole thing to be over, so I could go back home and continue my painting.

'Here we are, for the honour of boy tribute…' he delves his hand into the mass of names, before drawing out a pale blue one. Hurry up!

'Deric….err…Fiddlemittens!' cries Ivory, clearly perplexed by my surname. I gape at him in horror.

'Fiddlesticks,' I mutter under my breath. I guess I never will finish that painting.

'Good luck, mate,' offers Tag, supportively patting me on the back. 'Try not to be killed or anything!'

I stumble up the aisle in what feels like a dream. I'm mute to the cheers and claps of my district as my wobbling knees almost give way trying to mount the steps. A mixture of ice cold panic and red hot pride sears through me, and my heart drums against my chest, threatening to burst free as the mayor shakes my hand and heartily congratulates me by slapping me on the back. The rational part of my brain, the only part that's still cool and clear, registers the sting.

The last thing I see of District Two is my mum's tortured face rising up out of the crowd in a grotesque mask of agony.


	5. Sponsers  list so far!

**Hey guys! Here is the list of things you can send to your tribute.**

_Remember – one gift a day, unless it is in bold. This means you can only send it if you didn't send anything the previous day, and bold and underlined means for 2 days_

Basket of food

Plasters

Bandages

Iodine Tablets

Sleeping bag

Warm jumper

Flint

Bottle of water

Bottle of energy drink

**Small explosive**

**Tent**

**Backpack – iodine, water, food and sleeping bag**

**Bow and Arrows**

2 knives

**A spear**

A net

Rope

A bowl

**Backpack – tent, food hamper, water, 6 knives, night vision goggles and a warm outfit**

**Night vision goggles**

Anti-infectant

Tribute Final List:

**District One –**

- **Nikolas Pickit **_- Yoda_

- **Ashuba Stronghue **- _XxDeMixX_

**District Two –**

**- Deric Fiddlemittens **_- Hungerdude_

**- Difendimi Lyrica Corret – **_PedroTheTotalDramaFreak_

**District Three –**

**- Cam Diginit **_–CatchingFire54321_

**- Elizabeth Esmarelda **_– Featherstorm7_

**District Four –**

**Alec Hummingsworth - **_Hushhush_

**Angel Heavenblossom **_– .xx_

**District Five –**

**- Kenny Sawshore **_– CatchingFire54321_

**- Raven Nevra **_- callmecat_

**District Six –**

**- Aura MacPharlain **_**– **__Mockingjay and the jabberjay_

**District Seven –**

**- Liza Lee **_– Lozzipalooza X_

**District Eight –**

**- Callico Kendall **_– kendall (You didn't put a surname!)_

**District Nine –**

**- Violet Summers **_– Owlsong16_

**District 10 –**

**District 11 –**

**- Juniper Hale **_– riddle-girl-lost_

**District 12 –**

**- Usher Plutonium **_– Ipod shuffler_

**- Marissa Anderson **_– Stepping on Leprechauns_


	6. District Three Reapings

**Hey faithful readers of mine! I hope u r enjoying it so farrrr…..? If yes, please review! If no, also review! Thank you! Also THERE ARE NO MORE SPACES FOR GIRLS! I REPEAT – NO MORE! And there's only a couple of boys as well..! PS If you don't put a surname for a tribute, I will use ur username to make one ;) x**

**PS**

**I almost cried writing this chapter! (it probs won't seem v moving to you, but imagining the situation in Cam's POV, this is how I would have acted ;) )**

**District Three**

_**Ellie**_

I shiver quietly as the early morning breeze brushes up against me. Cold water drips down the back of my neck from my wet hair. I curse myself for not allowing myself time to dry it! I had just spent the morning swimming in the lake to calm myself before the reapings began. It was like a ritual – my whole family did it, every year. Well, until my father died and my mother was driven over the edge in her grief. So now it's just me, Pharia and Yazmina. We still continue the tradition of swimming in the lake, but instead of just once a year, we go there regularly. This makes me a far better swimmer than anyone else in District Three. They're all too busy tinkering with their gadgets and machines.

I scan the assembled crowd for Pharia's familiar face, to look at her and assure her that it will be ok, that nothing can tear our family apart. It's her first time at the reapings, now she has just turned twelve. Sure enough I spot her having a whispered conversation with the girl next to her. Relived that she isn't panicking, I relax and continue to watch the mayor do his thing. Mayor Archibald is a funny little man – his snowy white hair bursts out of his head like two little clouds on either side. He wears circular, thick lensed glasses which make his eyes look huge, like a fly's! People say that out of all the inventors and mechanics in District Three, he is the cleverest and would have stayed an inventor, hadn't he been elected. But just by watching the little man stumble about the stage makes me wonder how he manages to make his breakfast in the morning, let alone wire up an automobile!

'Now for the reapings!' squeaks Tilda Franchett, our escort. She is similar in appearance to Mayor Archibald – frizzy pink hair and bug-eyed spectacles. I sigh – I have no patience for stupid, stuck up Capitol escorts. They believe the games are just a bit of fun and entertainment to keep the Districts and the Capitol amused over the summer months. If only she knew. If only she could have her best friend torn away from her family, and flung into an arena filled with unspeakable horrors, to be brutally stabbed to death on the third day; If only she could experience what I did when Jules, my best friend, was reaped. Ever since her death I've refused to cry, refused to show any emotion, except maybe to my sisters. To my classmates at school I am nothing but I soulless body, devoid of any feelings and opinions. They couldn't get that more wrong – the whole time I was a bubbling pot almost overflowing with hate and anger at the Capitol; for them ripping away the one person who got me through those dark days after my father died, which ended with my mother, my darling mother, taking her own life out of pure selfishness. I hated my mother after that – I hated her for not only ending her life, but effectively ruining mine. We were left on the streets to starve or fend for ourselves, and it was only the kindness of Jules and her family that saved us from death.

Tilda stands on her tip toes to reach the glass globe filled with slips. She is about to effectively kill a child or two, as District Three hasn't had a winner for years. What good are wire and screws against a Career with a wicked knife?

'Ooh, and the lucky lady with the honour of becoming District Three's Tribute is…' There was a tense silence as the whole of District Three held their breath.

'Elizabeth Esmarelda!' she squeals my name in what she obviously thinks is an encouraging tone. I contain my feeling of panic and dread as I stalk up the path to the platform, my head held high and my eyes betraying nothing. Not one ounce of my fear for my sisters once I'm gone, not one bit of my fear for myself is reflected in my electric blue eyes. As I pass old 'friends' and acquaintances, they all avoid my cold glare, either picking at their nails or finding something particularly interesting to stare at by their feet. I struggle to contain the rise of fear in my chest, and concentrate on mounting the stage, where I stand strong by the Mayor, clearly towering over him.

'Ellie, no wait! I vol -,' shouts Pharia from her nice, safe spot in the audience.

'No, Pharia,' I snap harshly at her. She doesn't understand. 'You don't get it. You're too weak to enter the games. You were always the weak one. Stay here and look after Yazmina. You don't know what you're doing!' Pharia recoils from my scornful glare, her bottom lip trembling as though she's about to burst into tears, which was a pretty accurate prediction, as she broke down soon after into spasms of sobs. I flinch, but don't change my expression. The easiest way for her to recover will be to think that I don't care about her or Yazmina. I look away, unable to watch my sister cry like she hasn't done since Mother died.

_**Cam**_

I look up from the pocket watch I'm assembling and reassembling repeatedly just in time to watch the girl shout at her little sister before glowering at the crowd with her icy cold eyes, daring anyone to even think about saying another word. I shiver. Although the girl is small and delicate looking, her eyes say it all. I bet they could burn though a metal wall if she was furious enough! Those eyes and the combination of her curly black hair - which ripples all the way down to her waist! – is enough to give anyone a cause for fear. She looks savage, I think. A bubble of happiness cloaks its way around me. Today is my last reaping! I'm eighteen! And what's the chance I'll be picked anyway? There are thousands of guys to choose from, so why would it be me? I smile happily and continue to re-assemble my pocket watch even faster.

'Cam Diginit!' squawks the woman who has changed my life. Or death. I drop the delicate layers of glass and clockwork onto the concrete ground, and they smash to pieces on impact, the fragile layers of metal crumple instantly and lie there forgotten. I stare at her disbelievingly, not once breaking eye contact, as I'm pushed and shoved by the people I thought of as friends down the gap towards the stage. My brain is still two minutes behind the current events, where I am still staring at Tilda in disbelief, my mouth comically hanging open.

I shake my head to clear my thoughts. No! I won't let this happen…I can't let this happen! Despair overrides my brain as I push past the unprepared Peacekeepers, trying to leap down off the platform and back to my friends and family. They can't tear me away from them, they have no right! I battle my way through the bemused crowd, trying desperately to reach my mother, to tell her I love her, and everything will be okay. I need to hug my sister, to tell her that I never meant all the horrible things I've said to her in the past. I need to thank my family for giving me such I good life so far, and although it will now be cut short, that I am grateful for everything.

'Mother!' I call, running through the crowds, longing to feel her arms around me and to comfort me as tears of grief roll down my cheeks. 'No!' I sob in denial, 'No!' Then I see her, her familiar face wracked with sadness and despair behind my bawling sister. 'Mother! I love you!' I screech as the Peacekeepers finally catch up with me and take hold of my shoulders, ready to haul me back to the stage against my will if necessary. I break one arm free of their grip and reach forward, trying to touch her one last time, to smell her warm scent and to bury my face into her chest just to be as close to her as possible one last time. She stretches out her arm, trying to touch my fingertips too, but just as we are millimetres apart, the Peacekeepers yank my arm back behind me. I let out one giant sob of despair and grief as they drag me back to my place beside the mayor, silent tears still rolling off my cheeks and splashing onto the ground.

'My boy!' screeches my mother from the ground, before letting out a long pitiful wail that could only belong to a mother losing her dearest boy. The people around her try to pull her back as she claws the air around her, as though she was attacking invisible Capitol gamemakers. Finally someone manages to knock her out and she crumples to the floor in a heap, looking so small and pathetic it's impossible not to pity her loss.

I hang my head miserably as I'm led away from the square to the Justice Building. Something tells me I won't be allowed to say a final goodbye. I shake my head as I remember that my biggest worry this morning was the homework assignment I had to hand in tomorrow. Now I have to plan my strategy to fight for my life on live television.


	7. FINAL LIST OF TRIBUTES!

**Tribute Final List:**

**District One –**

- **Nikolas Pickit **_- Yoda_

- **Ashuba Stronghue **– _PedroTheTotalDramaFreak_

**District Two –**

**- Deric Fiddlemittens **_- Hungerdude_

**- Difendimi Lyrica Corret – **_XxDemixX_

**District Three –**

**- Cam Diginit **_–CatchingFire54321_

**- Elizabeth Esmarelda **_– Featherstorm7_

**District Four –**

**Alec Hummingsworth - **_Hushhush_

**Angel Heavenblossom **_– .xx_

**District Five –**

**- Kenny Sawshore **_– CatchingFire54321_

**- Raven Nevra **_- callmecat_

**District Six –**

**- Blake Handorman **_– I Hate Love (sorry someone already had 'Anderson')_

**- Aura MacPharlain **_**– **__Mockingjay and the jabberjay_

**District Seven –**

**- Rashid Hans Gresham **_- citruszen_

**- Liza Lee **_– Lozzipalooza X_

**District Eight –**

**- NAMELESS - …..**

**- Callico Kendall **_– kendall (You didn't put a surname!)_

**District Nine –**

**- Zakk Werrel **_-TheColorIsPurple_

**- Violet Summers **_– Owlsong16_

**District 10 –**

**- Jonathan Johnston **_–aichd13_

**- Joyce Moon **_– .XxX_

**District 11 –**

**- Ian Jameson **_–Rocket Summer_

**- Juniper Hale **_– riddle-girl-lost_

**District 12 –**

**- Usher Plutonium **_– Ipod shuffler_

**- Marissa Anderson **_– Stepping on Leprechauns_


	8. District Five Train journey

_**Kenny, District Five**_

'Dum dee di dum…' I hum under my breath, tapping the plastic table in time to my little melody. Raven glowers at me from across the table. 'Dee dum didi dum,' I mutter even louder. Her glare intensifies tenfold. If looks could kill, I think, I'd be sprawled out on the floor by now. But really, she can't blame me. The rhythmic chug of the train is enough to drive anybody mad! I'd never been on a train before, but already the silence except for the sound of the wheels against the track is already bringing on a steady loathing…

'Why did you volunteer for your brother?' asks Raven, abruptly breaking the heated silence. I shrug my one good arm, and sit back in my seat so I can get a better look at her. She has hair as black as night, as dark as the bird after which she was named. Her brown eyes almost match her hair and her lips are pulled tight into a permanently grim expression. I've seen this girl throw knives with pin point accuracy and, quite frankly, I wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of her. Which exactly what I'll be doing in the arena…the realisation hits me with a jolt of reality, timed perfectly as the train jumps over a rut in the track. She sighs in supposed boredom, and goes back to staring out the window.

'How did you get that scar?' she asks, still looking out the window. Again, I shrug, but the temptation is too great.

'I fought a bear…and won,' I say with what I think is a modest half-grin. She looks at me, snorts in disgust and disbelief, before turning back to look out the window. My smile wilts as I ponder as to why she doesn't believe me.

'You don't look as though you could wrestle a puppy, let alone a bear,' she says scornfully, as though reading my thoughts. Truth be told, she was right. I got the scar from falling over when I was little, onto one of my father's carving knives. The father who I would most probably never see again…my thoughts again grow distant and I join Raven in gazing out the window.

'You don't even know the meaning of hunger, or hardship. The most you've ever had to worry about is whether you'll get indigestion after lunch,' she sneers at me as I flinch, 'and when we're in the arena, one of my knives will hit you straight in the stomach,' she draws a line across her belly with her finger, 'and then your breakfast will come spilling out onto the floor.' She smirks at me menacingly, and I gulp, for I have no doubt that she means every word!

'Well, you two look like cartons of sour milk!' chirps our overly cheerful mentor, Ivey Evington, hurrying into our compartment with her clipboard in hand. She won the games sixteen years ago – long ago for her to forget the horrors of the arena. God knows how she won – she doesn't look as though she could harm a fly! Maybe she beamed the opposition away with her dazzling white, beaming smile. 'Now, you two have a very important decision to make,' she bustles, sitting so close to Raven she's almost on top of her. I raise my good arm to my mouth in an attempt to smother my laugh at her disgruntled expression. Ivey pauses, waiting for us to guess at this 'very important decision'. When neither of us say anything, she enlightens us both with, 'you have to choose whether you are going to be coached separately or together.

'Separately!' we both shout at the same time. No way was I going to be training with her…it would be too demoralizing, not to mention scary!

'Well that's settled, then, 'she looks relieved that she isn't going to have an argument on her hands. 'Kenny, dear, you want to come first?' I gratefully get up from the plush seat and follow her out of the sliding door, all the time feeling Raven's murderous glare needle my back like knives.

_**Raven**_

I feel nothing but loathing for him and his kind. They grew up in safe, secure zones, with more food than they could eat and never having to worry about being assaulted by drunken old men, or being beaten to death by older girls in need of amusement. And that was just by night. During the day I had to flee from Peacekeepers after stealing a slice of stale bread from a bin, or 'borrowing' an apple or two from the market. I've never had to worry about anyone but myself, as I was an only child, and continued to be right up until they hanged my parents – on live television no less. I guess I'm following in their footsteps.

While Kenny is being trained – God help him, he needs all the training he can get, and I'm serious about slitting him open – I pick up the remote from the seat, and switch on the TV, just in time to watch the reapings from all twelve districts. I watch it intently, so I can pick up people's weaknesses and strengths, anything that might be of use later. They start with District One, playing out the volunteers and the reaped. The girl from District Two could be a threat, I think. The boy looks a bit…bonkers…I place my finger on the word. The way he smiles with his chipped tooth on display gives that impression. Fiddlemittens…I chuckle at the name. I snort in disgust as the stocky boy from District Three cries and screams as he's dragged from his mother and into the Justice building. I could take him out with one blow! The careers from Four look average, but I grin widely as I watch myself being reaped, looking as dark and sinister as I wanted to be. I bet the other tributes are quaking in their seats! The pair from District Six unnerves me a little. They both look so emotionless it's slightly freaky! I frown…they can't match me though. I'm deadly. I will smile as they beg for mercy. I grin at the thought. I yawn as a bespectacled girl with serious issues volunteers to save her mentally disabled brother, and sigh as an extremely camp guy trembles his way up to the stage. All of this is of no interest to me. However, the one girl who stands out to me is the one who comes running onto the platform with six Peacekeepers in close pursuit just as the escort asks for any female volunteers from District Twelve, and the only obvious way out of her plight it to pretend that she was volunteering dramatically. I feel sudden warmth for this girl, as she reminds me so closely of myself. It doesn't take a genius to guess how she makes a living – the revealing lacy bodice says it all, and the extravagant hair is the work of a fellow prostitute for certain.

'Er, Raven? It's your turn,' mutters Kenny as he reluctantly sits back down on his seat. I glower at his weak, pathetic face.

'You may have been one of the better off ones back in District Five, but the moment we enter the arena, we're both on even footing. I'd like to see how all those fancy clothes come in handy then,' I grin evilly, looking up and down his frilled collared shirt and smartly pressed linen trousers. He gulps and begins to examine his withered right arm just to avoid eye contact. With my threat still hanging in the air, I swiftly glide out of the compartment to where Ivey is waiting for me.


End file.
